


Just Looking, Thanks

by tfa2141



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm just doing my best ok, I'm warning you, Season 2 spoilers, Stakeouts, also typical Lucifer hijinks, character development! (hopefully), deep emotional conversations, this has everything folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfa2141/pseuds/tfa2141
Summary: Out of all the assignments Detective Chloe Decker had been handed down by her superiors, this one seemed most likely to actually kill her.Or the one where Chloe and Lucifer get stuck on a stakeout for an inordinate amount of time and truths ensue. Spoilers for the season 2 finale.





	1. The Setup

Out of all the assignments Detective Chloe Decker had been handed down by her superiors, this one seemed most likely to _actually_ kill her.

 

“Did you get all that, Decker?”

She managed to nod, trying her best to keep her jaw from actively hitting the floor, and tried to process what had just passed from the Lieutenant’s mouth through the information receptors in her brain.

_Let’s run through this one more time, just to be sure._

 

Only a week after her on-again, off-again – partner? – had left her a voicemail promising the answers she didn’t know she’d been holding her breath for and then _disappeared off the face of the earth_ for days, the department wanted them to run a two-night stationary stakeout on the front of a major local drug operation.

She’d spoken to him all of twice since the day he had come back – once via the phone, where he’d tried to reassure her that he hadn’t gone back on his word, instead blaming “unforeseen circumstances” on his disappearance. As much as it pained her to admit it, some part of her still believed him. He’d stopped by the station two days ago to see if anything required his immediate assistance, paperwork notwithstanding, but she hadn’t seen him since. She’d come to learn that giving him space was sometimes the best thing she could do.

So back to the 48-hour stakeout – the topic on which Chloe’s brain was, at the moment, particularly avoiding settling on for any substantial period of time. Partners who may-or-may-not-be-running-from-her aside, it seemed to be a textbook stationary surveillance operation. Go in, collect evidence and information from a distance, and hope you have enough to get a warrant. Easy enough.

Except for the part where they’d have to share a vehicle for extended periods of time on the drive to and from a temporary housing arrangement within eyesight of their target, and for at least 48 long hours, generally deal with the awkwardness Lucifer’s latest incursion had put between them.

 

So, yeah. This might actually kill her.

Whatever.

Time to call the Devil.

 

 

She was suddenly very grateful she hadn’t said that out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work-in-progress but I'm hoping to have it finished soon. I'm posting the chapters as I finalize them so bear with me here!


	2. The Stakeout, Part I

“Okay, so our guy is one Kenneth Parker, age 34. Most recent known address is in a relatively safe neighborhood in Irvine…”

She was cut off as her partner hung a bag of probably very expensive clothes from the laundry hook in the back seat before leaning over, plucking the file from her hands, and replacing it with a cup of coffee.

“I trust you’ve already done your homework, Detective. And I have the approximately 45 minutes from here to Irvine to study myself,” Lucifer interjected. “I’ll even let you quiz me, if you like.” He smiled, in that same cat-that-ate-the-canary sort of way he did when he knew he’d won a point from her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way she remembered it.

Chloe took a drink from her cup, the liquid inside still very warm and infinitely better than what passed for instant coffee grounds at the precinct. It wasn’t just the smile that made her notice that her counterpart in the passenger seat seemed off – it was the nearly imperceptible wince as his back shifted against the seat when he’d entered the car, the adjustment of the way the safety belt slid across his shoulder, and just _maybe_ a hint of chapping at the corners of his mouth.

Not that she was looking, of course.

_Get a grip, Decker._

 

“You’ll be lucky if it only takes us 45 minutes,” she offered, trying to fill the gap in conversation before it stretched further between them. “Crawling through weekday work traffic really isn’t the best mood booster.”

“That’s why you have me,” Lucifer replied, barely missing a beat as he thumbed through the case file. Closing it with a snap, although he couldn’t possibly have read it all that quickly, he leaned forward to switch on the radio. Fiddling with the dial, he sifted through several dead stations before landing on the 90’s station. “I’m basically my own entertainment service.”

She didn’t mind the music choice, nor the smile that crept across his face as a familiar pop ballad began to bleed through the speakers. She almost laughed at the way he looked so damn proud of himself for taking stock of what was on her playlists, idly tapping his fingers on his knee to the beat. For someone who had unfailingly adopted the moniker and identity of the Devil himself, he was sweet when he remembered the little things about her.

The thought should have comforted her, but instead it seemed to bring about a sense of confusion more than anything – he had come back, he had agreed to spend the next two days with her despite recent events – and even though he would pass as fine to most any observer, she knew him better than his façade. Something was clearly and actively bothering him, but he was trying to hide it from her.

Easing the car out onto the freeway, she took another drink from her coffee cup and allowed herself to entertain the possibilities for what that might mean – and whether the next 48 hours might turn out to be more important than either of them expected.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, this may be the biggest supermarket I’ve ever seen, but somehow the place _still_ manages to find themselves out of truffle oil,” Lucifer pouted.

 

He was following Chloe, pushing the cart around behind her as she scanned the shelves for a fair number of food items to get them through the next few days, tossing supplies into the basket as they went.

“We’re just here for two nights, that’s it. All we need is enough to get us by until then, not supplies for a gourmet home-cooked meal,” she groused. After about the fifth time Lucifer tried to toss some ridiculously sugar-rich junk food concoction into the cart, she was another attempt away from banishing him from shopping duties. She stopped for a moment to check her phone and compare the list she’d had Lucifer make on the drive over to what they currently had in the cart, ignoring most of his itemized “additions”.

Placing the phone back into her pocket, seemingly satisfied with their stock, she turned to find her partner in the middle of placing a family size bag of sour gummy worms into the mix. He froze as he met her gaze, virtually accepting the initiated standoff.

“Don’t you dare. I am _not_ paying for your sugar addiction, Lucifer.”

Without breaking eye contact, he gave a small whistle as he allowed the bag to drop into the cart. Unfortunately, he’d picked the wrong fight.

“Okay, that’s it.” She fished the car keys out of her pocket and handed them to him, standing close enough to block his access to the cart so he couldn’t wheel away. “Go wait in the car while I finish up here.”

He opened his mouth as if to throw some retort back, but thought better of the idea and instead reached into the cart and fished out the package of gummy worms, replacing them on the shelf behind him on the way down the aisle. “Don’t leave me to roast out there in the heat, Detective,” he grumbled.

“That’s why there’s air conditioning,” she sighed. Turning the cart, she made her way down towards the bakery section, beginning to feel slightly guilty about having spoiled Lucifer’s fun (if only to teach him better dietary habits).

 

 

Chloe groaned when she reached the car and found it devoid of her partner’s tall frame in the passenger seat. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried her best to exhale the frustration as she realized that she couldn’t open the car to put the groceries inside while Lucifer still had the car keys. In what she expected to be a futile attempt, she reached for the driver’s door handle and found that it gave and opened – small miracles, she thought. Not that she was happy about having her car unlocked in a parking lot, mind you. She hit the trunk latch and returned to the cart to retrieve the first plastic bag, before noticing a note scrawled on an old receipt waiting for her in the middle of the trunk compartment.

_Got bored. Went to sit in the café next to the store._

Of all the things –

She finished loading the groceries and shut the trunk, shaking her head as she crossed back through the parking lot toward where she would find her partner.

And then probably give him an earful.

 

She pushed open the glass door to the café, causing a tinkling bell to chime and several patrons’ heads to pop out from behind their menus to take in the newest customer. Spotting Lucifer sitting at the bar top, her frustration evaporated as she saw him animatedly chatting and laughing with the older man working behind the counter in between sips of a root beer float.

It was this side of him that she found herself wondering about – not the broody and mysterious man who spoke in elaborate metaphors and generally avoided emotional depth, but the one with a gleam in his eye who cracked bad jokes and could light up a room with his presence. She sidled up to the counter next to him as the barman finished laughing.

“So this must be your _friend_ ,” he winked at her partner. Lucifer regarded her with a sideways smile as he nodded. “What can I get you, miss?”

Chloe shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks. Just here to collect him,” she offered.

“Nonsense, it’s on the house. Your friend here is the best company I’ve had in a while, and besides –“ he smirked, “he overpaid for his drink anyway.”

She glanced at Lucifer, who seemed to petition her with his eyes. _Just this once?_

The detective rolled her eyes before glancing at the menu board and finally acquiescing. “Okay, I guess I’ll take a cream soda then. It’s been a while,” she admitted.

The answering smile from both the barman and her partner might have been equals at that moment.

 

After allowing a few minutes for pleasant conversation between the three of them, Chloe glanced at her watch and apologetically remarked that they should probably get going. Lucifer nodded and rose from his place on the stool, allowing her to lead the way out the door. As he turned to leave, the aging barman took a moment to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I see the way you look at her, son. I wouldn’t let that one get away from you,” he offered with a soft smile.

He caught up with the detective in the parking lot and lowered himself into the car as she started the engine. “What took you so long?”

“I was imparted some words of wisdom by our friend back there,” he shrugged. “It seems those humans who have lived the longest tend to have the best advice.” Reaching into the backseat, he produced a shopping bag filled with most of the snacks she wouldn’t let him put into her cart at the store and began rifling through it, finally popping open a bag and tipping it sideways in offering it to her. “Cool ranch puff?”

Chloe paused a moment to scoff at him as they pulled out of the parking lot and spent the rest of the drive contemplating the meaning behind Lucifer’s words about the barman, yet finding no further answers to the question that was her partner. 

_48 hours to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, nobody freak out that it seemed to move really off-topic here - this is more of a filler chapter to set up for what's going to happen in later ones! I know it doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but bear with me. I promise it gets better from here (at least I hope so. Otherwise I've wasted additional hours of my life.)


	3. The Stakeout, Part II

Lucifer hunched forward on the couch as he stared through the binoculars at the tall house on the corner opposite their position. It had been a little over two hours without any signs of movement whatsoever, and the Devil could only be so patient. He let one of his hands fall towards the coffee table next to him and rooted through the bag of cool ranch puffs, bringing a handful to his mouth without breaking his line of sight through the small window. Suddenly, he spotted movement in the window and alerted Chloe.

“Lucifer, I don’t see anything. Where are you looking?”

He pointed out in front of them. “There, that chap in the fuzzy slippers finally moved off of the couch… and now he’s dancing alone in the living room.”

Chloe put down her binoculars and glowered at him. “That’s the wrong apartment.”

He looked back at her incredulously. “Of course I know that, but nothing was happening in the one we were supposed to be watching. So I moved,” he explained. With a huff, he leaned forward and used his hands to prop his head up. “I mean, what kind of kingpin drug dealer would be batty enough to show his face at – “ he checked his watch – “4 o’clock on a Thursday afternoon?”

The detective sighed, putting her binoculars down on the side table. “I guess you have a point.”

Lucifer smiled. “See, thinking.”

“So when do you think this guy might start to move?”

“Obviously not until the sun goes down. And even then, it would probably be a few hours before the best time for business. The party at Lux doesn’t really even get going until the early hours of the morning,” he smirked.

“As many questions as I have about your apparent knowledge on the subject, I’m gonna let it slide,” she acquiesced. “What are we going to do for hours while we wait then?” She stopped herself with a raised hand. “I know what your answer is, don’t go there.”

He grinned. “I have some ideas.”

 

 

“Got any threes?”

“Go fish.”

Chloe shook her head before reaching over and grabbing the spread of cards out of her opponent’s hands, turning them around to see what he was holding. Turning them to face him, she held up two threes he clearly had in his possession. “Bluffing at ‘Go Fish’ is totally considered cheating, Lucifer,” she scoffed.

He raised his hands in protest. “How am I supposed to be a card shark at this game if you can’t bluff?”

“Because those are the rules, and that’s how it works. I win.” She motioned with her hand and Lucifer reached behind him to reluctantly pass her the bag of sour gummy worms.

“And you made such a fuss about me buying these earlier,” he grumbled. Turning to the window, he grabbed his binoculars and peered out at the target house. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he batted the detective on the arm.

“Ow, what?”

“The light’s on across the way,” he stated simply, offering the viewfinders to her.

She scrambled up to get close to the window, locked on to the now-illuminated room opposite them. “Quick, hand me the camera.”

Lucifer fished through their gear bag, procuring the camera and tripod and handing them over to the detective. She set the stand on the floor, aimed it at the window, and began to focus the lens – just at the same time as the light across the way went off.

“Damn it,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with her hand.

Her partner peered cautiously around the chair where he’d retrieved the camera, trying to gauge the severity of her reaction to their slow-moving setup. Moving to sit next to her, he held out the now half-full bag of candy like a peace offering. She shook her head before smiling and taking a handful.

“I’ll shuffle the cards,” he offered.

 

 

Hours later, the only thing that had changed was the strain on their eyes from staring at a dark window all night. The coffee pot had begun to protest its continual use, as the water inexplicably came out slightly cooler each time they tried to make a cup – either that, or exhaustion had taken a toll on their ability to recognize temperature, which wasn’t out of the question entirely.

Chloe yawned into her mug, trying as hard as she could to fight the heaviness of her eyelids, although currently deep on the losing end of the battle.

“Someone’s hit their sugar crash,” Lucifer joked.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled back.

He reached over, despite her protests, and took the binoculars from her hand. “No, seriously. If you yawn any wider, you’re going to swallow a bug or something. Maybe you should get some rest.”

The detective checked her watch, and upon being unable to make any coherent sense of the numbers on the dial, decided that he probably had a point. The concern in his eyes was almost comical as she finally gave in. “Fine. Just – don’t let me sleep too long, okay? That way we can switch off shifts. We still have a job to do,” she managed.

“Come now, detective. You can trust me to keep an eye on the affairs of our _unbelievably_ boring bad guys across the street for a little while.” He scooted off the couch, leaving enough room for her to lie down, handed her a blanket, and tried his best to ignore the sharp stab of pain that radiated through his shoulder blades as he unwillingly brushed his back against the frame.

Even barely awake, Chloe noticed – and as she tucked into the cushions and fell asleep, made a mental note to confront him about it when she got up.

 

 

She awoke several hours later to the blinding sunlight streaming in through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee filling the room. With a groan, she rolled over and promptly thumped onto the floor.

_Right, couch._

Her partner chuckled as he placed a cup of coffee on the side table near her. “I’d say good morning, but it appears to have been more of a rude awakening.”

“Shut up, Lucifer,” she managed. Blearily rubbing her eyes, she sat up against the couch, taking in the stakeout equipment still set up by the window. “You were only supposed to let me sleep for a few hours. What’d I miss last night?”

“Nothing, actually. It appears the designer drug scene isn’t really busy on Thursday nights,” he shrugged.

She registered that his voice was farther away now, and standing up, located him in the kitchen cooking, sleeves rolled up and all. She smiled as she thought back to the numerous times he’d threatened to break into her house and finish the omelet he’d started many weeks prior. It seemed he was taking the opportunity to make good on his promise.

“Hungry?”

“Starved.”

He smiled as he pushed the plate towards her. Turning to the stove, he switched off the heat and placed the hot pans in the sink.

In the midst of shoving the first forkful of food into her mouth, Chloe stared up at her partner’s ministrations in the kitchen, doing her best not to be distracted by the way the muscles of his back stretched tight against his dress shirt. Suddenly remembering the way he’d winced when he brushed his shoulder blades against the couch last night, she chewed slowly before putting her fork down on the plate.

“Something on your mind, detective? Or are you finally appreciating the omelet you so rudely denied me finishing the time I tried to make you breakfast?”

She swallowed, hoping her upcoming line of questioning over the meal wouldn’t end up making the back 24 hours of their operation awkward. “If I remember correctly, you _broke into my house,_ ” she started.

“What did I break? I’m fairly certain just _entering_ isn’t grounds for criminal charges. Not that you’d press them, anyway,” he smirked.

She put another bite in her mouth, simultaneously stalling to change the subject yet not wanting to ruin her courage to ask the question she’d already put off. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he muttered, raising his coffee mug to take a drink.

“Is something about your back bothering you?”

Lucifer nearly coughed into his cup.

Composing himself, he quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean, detective? I’m perfectly fine.”

She narrowed her eyes, knowing him well enough to see through the front he was putting on. “The past few times you’ve leaned back against something, it looked like it hurt you. I noticed it on the drive over and again last night when you were sitting on the floor.”

Perhaps too hastily, he shoved a forkful of egg into his mouth and continued to play nonchalant. Damn his detective for being so observant. “Nope, no problems here. Besides,” he muttered while chewing, “have you ever known me to _avoid_ complaining about something?”

_That didn’t get me anywhere._

“I guess not,” she retreated. “Just- you can tell me if something’s bothering you, okay? You know that.”

“That’s one thing I can count on, yes.” He gestured with his fork in the direction of her plate. “Now eat up, I’d hate for you to spoil another of my omelets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think at most I have two chapters left to write in this fic, so we're nearing the end! I'm not sure if I'll have the next one up tomorrow, but I'll try my best. Thanks to everyone that's been reading to this point - hopefully you'll stick around to see where this one goes.


	4. The Success

The bright-faced analog clock above her head chirped away the seconds, barely audible over the blasting party music nearby as Chloe peered out the now-darkened window at their target house. “We’ve got to get something tonight, right? It’s a Friday night, and the complex is insanely busy. He’d be hard-pressed _not_ to move product with a crowd like this,” she muttered.

Her partner shifted positions on the floor next to her, the carpet scuffing against the grain as he moved. “I’d agree, detective. It is rather strange nothing has happened yet, though.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Want me to get a closer look?”

She turned to glare at him, finding instead that he was really and truly serious about the offer. “What are you going to do, walk up to a drug boss and ask him to borrow a cup of sugar?”

“If you think it would work,” he answered earnestly. “Clearly _this- “_ he gestured around the room – “isn’t doing anything to draw him out.”

“Lucifer, no.” She sighed, searching for a way to placate his boredom and fill the silence that had passed between them. She was beginning to regret asking him about his back earlier that morning: ever since then, he’d seemed reluctant around her.

“You know, I remember when I was about 10 and my dad took me fishing out on the big lake.”

Normally, he would have interjected with some comment about his own paternal strife, but his better judgement intervened. He turned to face her, knowing how difficult it was for her to talk about her father some days.

“I was disappointed because we had been out there for what felt like forever, but neither of us had gotten even one bite.” She smiled. “I remember going to the stores to search for bait and hooks and and all other kinds of fishing gear we probably didn’t need. But my dad never did anything halfway, and he said he’d be damned not to make a good weekend out of it. So we’re sitting in this glorified inflatable raft with a passable excuse for a motor, and I’m obviously grumpy or something.”

She turned back to the window, peering through her binoculars again. “And I’ll never forget this – he told me, ‘it’s called fishing and not catching for a reason, Chlo.’ We didn’t end up getting anything, but that managed to make me appreciate the time with my dad a little more, I think.” Nudging him with her shoulder, she smiled. “And you can’t catch anything if you don’t put your hook in the water. Come on, I know we can get this guy.”

He nodded, idly pondering what his life would have been like if his Father had been half as benevolent as hers sounded.

 

Sure enough, less than an hour later there was activity across the street. Lucifer nearly had to dive out of the way to avoid Chloe’s scramble to the window as she switched on the camera. The pair peered through the magnifying lenses at the scene unfolding in the target house – grade-A, incriminating proof that their suspect was indeed peddling _insane_ amounts of very expensive and probably very high-class drugs. And the best part? It was all on film for them to wrap up, tie with a bow, and deliver straight to the hands of the police department.

Chloe could have laughed out loud at that very moment, if she wasn’t too busy still looking through the binoculars to prove that what was happening in front of them was all too real. She could make our their perp’s cold, calculating stare as his bug-eyed client pulled out a tremendous stack of bills, neatly rubber-banded together, and handed it over with trembling hands. And then the exchange was made, a small and unremarkable plastic bag transferred in assumed secrecy.

“Clearly a first-time purchaser,” Lucifer laughed as he watched from his side of the camera. “He looks like the type that would ask your grandmother to borrow a cup of sugar, not pay an exorbitant amount for designer vices. And a barely illegal substance, to boot.”

“The department’s been trying to get this guy for _years_ ,” the detective scoffed, choosing to ignore his last comment. “They were never looking for deals inside his own apartment complex though. Figured he’d be brave enough to bring it out into the open.” She turned to give her partner a pat on the shoulder. “We got him this time,” she grinned.

“You know, I don’t mean to spoil your fun, detective, but I think they’ve seen us,” he warned.

 

Her blood ran ice cold as her instincts kicked in, and using her full strength she hauled him down to the floor, both thumping onto the carpet - flat on their backs, but out of sight. Turning to look at him, she was met with a face twisted between amusement and pain – she’d neglected to take his pain into consideration, and landing full-body-weight down on an injured back probably couldn’t have been worth his joke.

“You ass, I thought you were serious! We could have been in big trouble,” she scolded him.

“I see that now,” he offered between pained intakes of breath. “My fault.” He rolled gingerly onto his side and took a moment to sit up completely, his jaw locked as he fought through the stinging sensation between his shoulder blades. Meeting her eyes, he found her looking at him with worry in her eyes. She spoke, bearing a softness in her tone he didn’t often hear.

“I’m sorry, I reacted without thinking about it. Are you okay?”

“I will be in time, I’d expect,” he admitted, the meaning of the statement going beyond just the address of his back pain.

 

She studied him closely, her voice now normalizing and gaining intent as the joyous moment they’d just shared began to mold and shape itself into something different entirely. It was like that with him – depths to conversations that wouldn’t have existed if not for _whatever_ they had between them. It ran deeper than just partnership, that she knew. They were both broken at their edges, and by some small miracle it seemed they’d begun to heal one another as a result of their shared imperfections.

 

“Clearly you’re not fine like you said. And I’m tired of you hiding whatever this is from me. If it’s bothering you that much, let me take a look at it.” Reaching out, she tried to place a steadying hand on his shoulder – and to no one’s surprise, he pulled away like a scalded cat.

“Don’t,” he protested.

The detective took a breath and offered her touch again, this time finding his forearm and letting out a small breath when he didn’t flinch this time around. _Safe spots,_ she reminded herself. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

His eyes trailed down from hers to the spotted pattern of the carpeting beneath them. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he sighed, voice barely audible when he spoke again. “I’m worried that by letting you see the truth, you’ll be the one that gets hurt.”

She felt the sadness in his voice weigh itself at the bottom of her own heart. “Lucifer, look at me,” she gently urged him. Deep brown eyes met hers and she thought for a moment she could see a thin line of tears begin to well themselves forward. “Do you trust me?”

He knew the answer without thinking about it. “Of course I do. I- I don’t trust myself, Chloe.”

“I do.”

His power to fight back was lost just then, absorbed by the strength of her convictions and the blind hold of her faith in him. Standing, he took her hand and led her to her feet. “I suppose that’s all that matters, then.” Lightly guiding her out the door, he swiped the keys from the kitchen counter and locked the apartment behind them.

The expression she wore was one of uncertainty and confusion. “Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled her into the nearest stairwell.

“The roof, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay all, one more chapter after this! Luckily, it's already written so it should be up by tomorrow morning (if I get around to it). Thank you so much for reading with me to this point, and I do apologize for the delay on getting this up in a timely manner - sometimes you just lose your train of thought while writing, unfortunately.


	5. The Scope of Things

He pressed the apartment keys into the palm of her hand, taking a few moments longer than was strictly necessary to let his fingertips leave lingering traces against her wrist and the back of her hand as he pulled away.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a choice,” he replied simply. Tilting his head back, he let the night air fill his lungs and clear his thoughts before speaking again. “Once I tell you the truth about me – the whole truth, there’s no going back. This doesn’t affect everyone the same way-“. He stopped, thoughts tangling in an indecisive mix between the benefits of an apology versus a warning. “As much as it will pain me, I need you to know that you can leave if you choose to do so, and I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

She was struck by the power of her own words, just then – in the face of the partner who was more mystery than man, and possibly one side of a multifaceted celestial gambit – holding fast to her belief in him, through and through. Stepping closer, she let her hands fall on the top button of his dress shirt and met his eyes as she looked skyward.

 

Maybe things would change between them after this.

And maybe that would be okay.

He nodded, a somber acceptance of what was to come, and the first barrier between them and the truth was broken.

 

There wasn’t any hurry in the action as she unworked each individual button, taking in the increasingly revealing expanse of his bare chest with a kind of reverent focus, the white fabric moving to her will. As the last piece of joined material came separated, she moved a hand to the back of his collar to slide the shirt down over his shoulders, the cuffs at his wrists then the only thing preventing it from gathering in an elegant pile on the floor. Gently freeing his arms, she caught the shirt and placed it over her right shoulder, an attempt to spare the garment from the gathered dirt and dust of the rooftop where they stood.

Holding his arms outward and palms to the sky, he allowed her to take in the scene before her.

 

He looked every bit the fallen angel he said he was at that moment, hair naturally windblown and his silhouette backlit by the dancing amber lamps of California traffic crawling along the interstate. It was then that she noticed the scars on his torso – healing, but still present and _recent_ indicators of a yet undisclosed injury. As she stepped closer, she could see the skin around the edges of the fading wounds starting to peel, just as on the sunburns she’d had as a little girl. Lucifer turned, allowing her full view of his injuries, and it was only then that she registered that there was nothing wrong with his back.

 

_Absolutely nothing wrong._

 

She could have sworn the earth’s gravity pulled stronger for a few seconds just then. Her knees buckled of their own accord, and she covered her mouth with her hands as she sank onto the roof beneath them.

He registered her silence. “Would you believe me if I said cosmetic surgery?”

Turning to face her, he could see the shadow of a battle raging behind her eyes. She shook her head as he knelt down next to her. “It’s all true, I’m afraid. The Prince of Darkness, Lord of Hell, Beelzebub, Old Scratch, The Devil, most recently, Lucifer Morningstar, civilian consultant to the LAPD…” He stretched a thin smile. “And my personal favorite, your partner.”

A quiet passed between them for several moments, his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if this would be the last time he would ever see her. Distant car horns punctuated the air with staccato pulses of discordant notes even he could not arrange a tune with.

 

It was all real. The stories, the legends, myths, and wives’ tales, both halves of the celestial plane and the beings that held dominion over them and within them. Her partner was the Devil, a fallen angel, once God’s favorite son.

But what had _really changed?_

He was still the same old Lucifer. Strong, dependable, and loyal to her through it all.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about the possibility of it all being real. It certainly explained some of the more unique occurrences around him better than any story she’d had to write on the police reports to this point.

There was a statement that seemed to follow her as she’d moved through the ranks to homicide – “nothing can shake her,” they used to remark.

This wouldn’t either.

 

“That’s not all, is it?” She asked finally, the rattling rearrangement of her bones now settling to a dull thump in her chest.

Leaning back, he stretched his shoulders and allowed a giant pair of white wings to unfurl themselves from thin air, the tips dragging softly against the wind as it rustled through the strong feathers.

“I understand if you need time to process this,” he offered gently.

She allowed a shaking exhalation to pass from her lungs, taking in the picture he presented before her.

“Yeah, I think so,” she managed. “But that’s probably done best over a drink, wouldn’t you say?”

And then she did something he couldn’t have predicted in all the millennia he’d lived through – she laced her fingers with his and stood, guiding him to his feet with her as his wings trailed behind. He searched her face for an explanation, instead finding the ghost of a smile beginning to touch the corners of her mouth.

“Come on. I know a place in town that sells great cream sodas.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t think you could tell me,” she offers between sips.

He shrugged. “I can never tell how people are going to react. And the wings are very new reacquisitions for me – which is why they bloody hurt, still healing. For starters, one of my siblings nicely decided to Devilnap me and toss me out in the middle of the desert for a significant length of time. After I called you, actually. Which explains the hideous sunburn I’m fighting at the moment. When I woke up, I had my wings back, and as of yet more questions than answers. But anyway, you’re the first to have seen them. I had no frame of reference to work with.”

“At the very least, I think I get it why you couldn’t show me inside the apartment.”

He laughed, that real and true smiling laughter that he reserved for her alone. “Let’s just say that if I did, the department wouldn’t be getting their safety deposit back.”

She smiled, leaning on his shoulder and letting her eyes capture the world around her in that moment. She was sitting on a dusty patio bench overlooking the distant ocean, next to the Devil himself (who was also a fallen angel), casually having conversations about angel wings and celestial happenings while sharing cream sodas and watching the stars.

“You know, if I ever try and tell this story later in life, someone is going to immediately call the nursing home and find me a spot,” she joked.

“Like I wouldn’t come break you out.”

“I know you would.”

 

The faint scent of salt and a waning sea breeze gently misted over them with each passing break of the waves far below, the water now nothing but barely contrasting shades of navy blues and blacks as she peered out into the expanse beyond shore.

 

“In all seriousness, I believe I owe you an apology, detective,” he admitted softly, breaking the peaceful silence between them.

She shifted to look at him, taking in the faint glow emanating from his person and wrapping them in a soft light. He didn’t seem to have realized it yet.

“I can’t begin to apologize for the pain I’ve caused you,” he started, trying to hide the way his voice bent and broke around the words. “I tried to do what I thought was right, and I only made things worse by withholding the truth from you. For that I am truly sorry. But know that I will do anything in my power to try and make it right, no matter what that is.” He paused, and she could see the last of the walls he’d built come crumbling down. “I care about you, Chloe,” he admitted, barely more than a whisper among the last remnants of night traffic filling the silence. “More than I ever thought possible. I know I don’t deserve another chance after everything I’ve done, but I would give anything to prove that to you.”

She shook her head, fighting the words he’d just said. “I haven’t been around as long as you, clearly,” she offered, earning the ghost of a smile from her partner, “but I’ve learned a few things about giving chances.” She stared down at the soda bottle in her hands, gathering her thoughts in the same way the condensation beaded and drifted down the side of the glass. “I don’t think it’s necessarily about what we _deserve._ I think it’s about what we’re brave enough to give… and maybe more about what we’re brave enough to accept,” she finished, eyes trailing up to his.

 

It was hard to hold his gaze, just then – the eyes of a man looking into some unfathomable depth, holding the possibilities of everything that had been and could be by the thread of the universe. She wondered if perhaps this was the way she looked when she was young, marveling at the stars and planets her father had showed her in his telescope.

“What you showed me today…”  She shook off the beginning of the sentence, seemingly unhappy with the way the words had arranged themselves upon coming forth. “It was incredibly brave of you to tell me the whole truth. I saw how much it scared you, not knowing how I would react.” Reaching out, she allowed her hand to find his, joining their fingers together as he smiled – that blinding, brilliant grin that found the corners of her mouth drawing upwards in a mirror fashion. “I think that was courage enough to earn at least a few more chances.”

She watched as the depths of the words she’d spoken began to register, and almost unconsciously he shifted closer, breath catching in her throat as he placed a warm hand under her chin, gently guiding her to him.

He kissed her then, in that way that filled the spaces in her heart and chased the cold from her bones. It left a tingling sensation in her stomach that she could have blamed on the soda if she really wanted to deny the truth. But she didn’t, and neither did he – and so they sat, tucked inside the warm glow of the coming morning, wordlessly exchanging all the things that needed to be said. As he pulled away, breathless, to rest his forehead against hers, she thought for a moment she could see the stars reflected in his eyes – and he now knew that the only thing he truly needed was to see himself in hers.

He almost could have laughed - the fallen Morningstar, finding his light again.

 

 

He drove down the coast again, a few days later, in the hopes of thanking the old barman at the cafe for his help and advice in the matter. Ducking his head into the store, he was surprised to find a young man tending the counter.

"I was hoping to leave a... tip - for the older gentleman who works here. I believe it was Thursday or Friday of this last week," he recalled.

The young man looked up at him strangely. "I'm the only one who works the counter here, sir, apart from our new hires who started on Monday. Maybe you were thinking of another location?"

Lucifer took a moment to shake his head in welcome disbelief, tossing a five-dollar bill in the tip jar anyway as he left. "Right, must have been," he responded, humoring the kid behind the register. Letting a laugh out as he reached his car in the parking lot, he glanced skyward. Maybe his Father was watching, maybe not. But he allowed himself a smile as he stared into the expanse of blue sky above his head, offering a silent thank you to whoever was looking out for him - looking out for  _them_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that about does it! Thanks so much for reading and leaving your kudos and comments along the way. It really brightens my day to see your comments filter through my inbox when I post something new. 
> 
> There could potentially be a follow-up to this in the future, if I can scrape together enough ideas to make that happen (so also feel free to leave those below, hint hint). Thanks again!


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